


Rockabye Beary

by LetMeEntertainYou



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Autism, Autistic!John, Beary - Freeform, Gen, comfort items
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-06 03:50:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18843046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetMeEntertainYou/pseuds/LetMeEntertainYou
Summary: John whistled as he washed his hands, itching to get back to the living room where the other 3 were. Roger was doing a bet, which John was sure he gave to himself, that he could drink a 6 pack and top off a bottle of wine without getting shit faced. It didn’t seem possible but it was definitely fun to watch.He hurried back out, ready to throw himself back into the mix when he saw that his chair was empty.He didn’t panic at first, assuming his little friend toppled over without anyone noticing. He wasn’t a particularly vocal member of the group, you know.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My blog is Disabled-Queen-HC on tumblr.  
> Anon asked: Could I have some John being protective over Beary? Like someone takes Beary for a moment without asking John and John is of course upset about it. Happened to me with my golden retriever

“Gotta take a leak,” John mumbled to the others, setting Beary down in his chair before he scurried off the the restroom.

Beary under no circumstances was allowed in the bathroom. Too many water sources, one being quite..unsanitary, that he could fall into. It wasn’t worth the risk. Besides, John could manage a shower or bathroom break without him. It was for both of theirs sake. 

John whistled as he washed his hands, itching to get back to the living room where the other 3 were. Roger was doing a bet, which John was sure he gave to himself, that he could drink a 6 pack and top off a bottle of wine without getting shit faced. It didn’t seem possible but it was definitely fun to watch.

He hurried back out, ready to throw himself back into the mix when he saw that his chair was empty. 

He didn’t panic at first, assuming his little friend toppled over without anyone noticing. He wasn’t a particularly vocal member of the group, you know. 

He knelt down by the chair and looked under it. Nope. Then on either side. Nothing.

Maybe someone took him. The guys sometimes liked to take Beary for cuddles or just to fiddle with, which was fine most of the time. But right now, they were all in different stages of drunkenness. The last thing he needed was for them to accidentally rip out an eye or burst a stitch. Or vomit on him. Roger was looking a little green on the sofa he was swaying on, singing to himself, of all things, a lullaby.

John looked at Freddie’s hands but all he was holding was a nearly drained wine glass. 

Brian’s hands and lap were empty too, his arms flailing awkwardly as he tried to dance to the record player in the background. 

Roger’s were too, only nursing a cheap bottle of wine (with an outrageous alcohol content).

Okay, now was a good time to panic, John thought.

He started to comb through the room, throwing pillows around, shoving people over, checking the bathroom. He himself wasn’t entirely sober, so perhaps he’d misplaced his companion without even realizing it. 

“Where’s Beary?” he hissed to himself, heart beginning to race at the prospect of losing him.

“What’s the fuss John?” Freddie said, his tone a little slurred but not faded like the other two.

“Beary! Where is he?” John snapped, a few fingers going into his mouth to nibble on. They tasted like soap.

“He has to be somewhere around here, Deacy. He can’t have gotten up and walked,” Freddie said, laughing at his clever little joke. John didn’t laugh as he emptied a box from the corner of the room, spilling knick knacks onto the floor. No sign of the brown eyed, smiling bear.

“Beary? The name sounds familiar,” Brian added to the  _oh_  so stimulating conversation, arms pausing in the air as he contemplated the existence of a person named that. 

John ignored him too, flipping couch cushions, his body filling up with bad feelings. Thunder clouds and mud puddles.

And Roger wouldn’t stop singing those goddamn lullabies, rocking himself from side to side, eye’s fluttering open and closed.

“When the wind blows the cradle will rock…Rock-a-bye baby….baby…rock-a-bye…Beary…on the tree top…”

John’s ears perked up at the name, rushing over to Roger. The drunkest of them might be the key to Beary’s whereabouts.

“Roger, did you move Beary?” John said, holding onto his wobbling friend’s shoulders.

Roger smiled widely, head lolling around before putting a finger to his lips, wine bottle still in hand.

“ _Shhhh_. The baby is asleep, sweetie pie,” he said while giggling. 

John blinked for a few moments, trying to decipher the clearly cryptic words from the blond before he got up and walked to Roger’s room. 

He didn’t know if he wanted to scream or collapse when he saw Beary tucked into Roger’s bed, which he could not verify was clean. But he was safe and in one piece.

John snatched him up and gave him a tight hug before pressing his belly into his face, breathing in softly. The fur tickled his nose and cheeks, sending familiar tingles into his stomach.  _Oh thank god._

He walked out the room, rather cross with Roger. What had inspired the man to tuck in Beary? He could barely walk! How did no one notice?

Any yelling he had to do would have to wait. Roger was now on the floor, joining Brian in their interpretive dance, off beat. 

That was no better sign to go home.

“I’m leaving,” John said, crossing the room, hand grasping the door knob. 

“Deacy, you live here,” Roger mumbled, somehow coherent enough to remember that. 

The 3 beers in John’s system sung.

“ _Oh my god_ ,” was John’s only reply, turning on his heels before stomping off to his room. 

He let out some confused flaps, promptly going the fuck to sleep afterwards, Beary snuggled up in his arms. 

From outside, just before drifting off, he heard Roger yell, “SHH. THE BABIES ARE SLEEPING, BRIAN,”


	2. Consequences

Roger groaned in his room, an icepack covering his eyes as he weakly flopped around in bed, regretting his life choices. He wasn’t even at a party. Why did he choose to get black out drunk? 

Because he was young and stupid, that was why.

He whined when another throb seized his brain.

So very stupid. 

He whined again when the door flung open, sunlight pouring into his room making his head spin.

“W-What do you want? Leave me alone to die or bring me an aspirin at least,” Roger moaned, blocking out the light with his hands.

“Tosser,” a voice rung out, far too loud for his sensitive ears.

“Wanker,” he called back, more out of instinct than anything else. He had no clue who said it. But if it was Brian, he meant it. The bastard egged him on to finish the wine bottle!

“No,  _you’re_  the wanker here,” the voice said again, this time followed by a whack with his own pillow.

Roger removed his hands from his face, squinting against the burning light. Before him stood a very angry looking John, Beary in one hand and a pillow in the other. 

“What’d I do?” Roger said, a sheepish look spreading onto his face. Black out drunk Roger was an asshat. He must’ve done something to piss the bassist off, that he was sure of, but he didn’t know what. After the first few sips of wine, things got all blurry.

John became indignant, eyes growing wide. “You stole him!” he said, holding the bear out. 

Roger’s lips pulled downwards, eyebrows going up. “Did I..hurt him?” Roger asked, looking over the bear who seemed perfectly intact.

“No! You tucked him in bed and sang him bloody  _lullabies_. But you didn’t tell me that! I got so scared that I lost him. Real scared. I thought he was gone and you didn’t care,” John was getting upset, eyes starting to glaze over as he recalled the night before. That horrible sinking feeling in his chest, the panic in his bones. He brought Beary close to his chest, lips pressing into the top of his head.

Roger frowned, sitting up in bed. Yeah, drunk him was a gigantic asshole. He couldn’t remember a lick of this, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t his fault. He knew how important Beary was to John. He couldn’t imagine the fear going through him in those moments. 

He rubbed the back of his head with a sigh, staying quiet for a moment before saying, “I’m sorry, Deacy. You know I wouldn’t do that on purpose, but I know why’d you be mad at me.”

John didn’t say anything, instead hitting Roger again with the pillow. His anger now looked forced instead of genuine. 

“Does that mean you accept my apology?” Roger asked, dodging another whack from the pillow.

“No,” John said bluntly, although with a hint of a giggle in his voice. 

Roger caught the pillow John threw at him, a small smile on his face as he watched John walk out, trying to hide a smile of his own, Beary tucked under his arm.

“It won’t happen again, Deacy. I swear,” Roger said. 

“Mhm,” John replied before slamming the door shut.

Roger groaned, the loud noise making his head nearly explode. He laid back down, remembering to never cross the youngest again. 


End file.
